MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “World Cup”

A dreamer, a sleeper, a traveler

Mount Saint HelensHelmut was a sleeper. Most people called him a dreamer but that wasn’t always true. He could sleep without having any dreams.

It was both funny and concerning at how easily, fast and deeply he could sleep.

The saying that even bombs falling can’t awake him, was literally true in his case. For all his drowsiness, Helmut was a widely-travelled man. For work reasons (he was a non-conformist travel reporter) he had found himself in the Gaza region. But when the bombing occurred he was safe asleep in his bed.

During another time, he was across continent, in Asia when an earthquake of great magnitude hit Japan. Helmut felt nothing. He was dreaming of relaxing with a mojito on a beach in Copacabana while rocking gently on a hammock.

Sometimes he was upset that he missed great events. Like for example a FIFA World Cup thrashing of a prestigious team.

Or the New Year’s Eve fireworks at a packed world-famous central square.

Helmut didn’t mean to fall asleep everywhere and at any time. It just happened. Particularly when he was exhausted after an intense day of travelling, running around and researching his renown reportages. He was good at his work. He was just running out of energy and lacking in stamina to endure a full 24-hour day.

Yet, the things he had seen in his life, few people could boast about. Helmut had visited all 50 must-see cities within the span of 2 years, and he had seen much more. He saw things tourists did not know existed. And that was what made his stories unique. They were real, authentic and true. So what if he didn’t experience the force of a tsunami? He was there to view the aftermath, the human sorrow, the destruction, the tragedy of continuing having lost everything, and the courage to restart from scratch.

In the end it was true – Helmut was a dreamer with eyes both shut and wide open. But he saw the world for what it was. And for all it was worth, experiencing a thousand moments of consequence meant so much more than living a few seconds of impact.

 

N.B. Links to the events are merely for reference and to serve as recent examples. No matter how well travelled Helmut may be he cannot have been in so many different places at more or less the same time period.

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It’s just a ball…isn’t it?

-You guessed it, with the World Cup 2014 in full heat over there in Brazil, I was bound to get caught up in all the excitement about football. I promise I won’t rant on too long. Because, you know, there are many who can’t understand what all the fuss is about – it’s just 22 guys on a pitch kicking a ball around. Isn’t it?

Well, apparently it is. But deep down it seemingly has more meaning than at a first glance. Let aside the millions that are spent each year – heck each month – on football equipment, stadiums, and those blown-out-of-proportion salaries of the players themselves, this is a game which to the truest of fans is comparable to no other.

At one time or other, most people dream of visiting a stadium of a well-known team. Simply to indulge in the interior of this apparatus that spills out entertainment, thrill and excitement to fans of all ages.

It’s a different sensation being there, in the arena with thousands of fans cheering, yelling, screeching mostly profanities, but all the while living every moment. As if their lives depended on it. Because let’s face it, for the fanatics, when it’s football time, they are the ones who know best, how to play, how to score, how to be a coach. And endless rows and injuries have exploded over such trivialities. For some, football is more than just a game. It is a way of life.

Yet, there are some instances where this ballgame (not to be confused with America’s favourite pastime) actually unites – people, families, entire countries. Where a single victory by the squad of a small, financially devastated and austerity-crippled country can make an entire nation proud. Because for those few days or even hours, people manage to forget about their own problems and focus on something else. Something that perhaps values more – national pride.

No matter the outcome of any game – despite the swearwords, the profane hand-signals and the rage that may fill the crowd at first – fair play stipulates that all are acknowledged. For the goals, the saves, the game well played. And just when this huge party ends and we’ll return to reality and the routine once again, some will already be planning the next one. Because it’s not just the match. It’s the love of the game, and everything that comes with it. So, maybe it is not just a ball after all. Is it?

What life sounds like

football-stadium-and-football-loving-people-or-player-in-spain1What does a roar sound like?

They tell me that when a footballer scores, the crowd “roars”. I don’t know what that sounds like.

All I see is people jumping up and down in the stands, with their faces mutating from the strain of excitement. They seem to be living every moment as if their life depends on that single goal. And when something goes wrong, you can see the blood gushing to their face, painting it red with anger.

They all seem to be yelling something at every instance, but I don’t know what it is.

I don’t like watching football. Everyone tells me that I am missing out from all the fun if no screaming is involved. But it is not my fault.

It is even worse when I go to a concert. Well, actually, when they drag me there and I just stare at the stage at people jumping up and down in what appears to be a contest of who will wear less clothes.

But I can’t hear anything.

I was born like this. Deaf.

I don’t know what a singing bird sounds like. Or what my parents’ voices are like.

I have never heard the crack of a biscuit, or the ruffling of leaves. Neither the sound of pages turning, or the beating of a heart. Nor the noise a jumping car makes, or the swish of waves.

I don’t know what music is. Or what it means to yell at the top of your voice to release the tension.

I never experienced the thrill of a good shout.

And I will never know what it means to roar like a lion when you are mad. Or sob and squeak like an infant when you are sad.

I wish I could hear a voice. Even an angry one. Just hear something.

I am living in a silent world. And the only thing I can hear is the sound of my heart breaking from it.

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